


Joyriding (Above and Beneath the Stars)

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (but shiro has still lost an arm), Alternate Universe, Birthday Kiss, Canon Divergence - No Voltron, First Kiss, Friendship, Hoverbikes, M/M, Snorkeling, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 15:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: This is the third launch day since Shiro was grounded, the third he's spending with Lance—and the first where Lance wants to try something a little different. If Shiro will go for it; if Shiro will trust him."Of course!" There's no trace of hesitation in Shiro's tone or his open smile.





	Joyriding (Above and Beneath the Stars)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PunkInPinkGlitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkInPinkGlitter/gifts).



> Happy Shiro's Birthday! :D I had so much fun writing this pure fluff for you, and I really hope you enjoy it. ♥

This is the third launch day since Shiro transferred to Galaxy Garrison East from the western branch. The third one since he was permanently grounded after the accident where he lost his arm. The third one he'll be watching from here, miles away from the launch site. 

The third launch day Lance will be spending with him.

It's how they first met, actually. This spot, not far from the original Cape Canaveral lighthouse, is not exactly a secret, but it's inaccessible to civilians and also so far on the outskirts of Garrison grounds that no personnel ever come out here. Except for Lance, who's been in the habit of watching launches from here since he was first admitted to the Academy. And then that day two years ago, Shiro too.

Even before Shiro introduced himself, Lance had known who he was. Everyone knew Lt. Takashi Shirogane. Everyone knew the moons of Pluto had been his mission. And everyone knew it wasn't anymore, though not everyone knew it wasn't because of the amputated arm. Only a select few at the highest levels knew Shiro had a chronic condition that was getting progressively worse; because of that, they had made the decision to bar Shiro from any and all space flight.

There had been something in Shiro's voice when he'd confided that to Lance some time after they'd watched the exhaust plume from the launch arc across the sky and dissipate. Something buried layers deep. Not bitterness, Lance thought, but not acceptance either.

By then they were well into the plum wine Shiro had broken out and offered to share. On the next pass of the bottle, Shiro had looked at him and, though it wasn't overt, Lance felt studied by the gaze this time. "You're a cadet." 

Lance managed to nod. "I wanted to be an exploratory astronaut," he started, then cut himself off before he said "like you"—only to hear the words, to his horror, leave his mouth anyhow. Shiro seemed okay with it, though: he didn't look off or even flicker. "Anyhow." Lance dragged himself away from Shiro's face, and though he meant to look up at the sky, he found his hands looming into view as his gaze dropped to his own lap. "They just put me in the cargo pilot track."

He waited for Shiro to tell him he'd still be going to space, at least. And unlike the resentment Lance felt towards everyone else who tossed those words at him, he figured it was fair from Shiro.

Shiro didn't say anything right away. He didn't so much sigh as expel a deep, slow, conscious exhalation, like a yoga breath. "It's hard to let go of a dream," he said then, gaze fixed on the horizon.

Lance had swallowed and looked away. "Yeah." It was dumb—what a dumb thing to say. He was so stupid. He couldn't think of anything smart to say, but he thought he could maybe at least try to assure Shiro that all of this was safe, that it would never leave this coastal cliff. "Sometimes it's nice just to be able to talk about things. Like it's easier with a stranger—"

"What stranger?" Shiro said before Lance could get out the rest of the thought.

Lance had turned to him then, grin at the ready, laugh just behind the grin even though he didn't really get the joke—and the laugh had melted away when his eyes met Shiro's, though the smile on Shiro's face had encouraged Lance to hold onto his own.

"We're friends now," Shiro had continued, flashing his grin wider at Lance before he'd looked up into the sky again.

"Well, in that case." Lance wasn't sure about this. He thought Shiro was probably just being polite, that he was somehow even nicer than his reputation. And even if he really considered that he and Lance were somehow friends, there was still a fifty-fifty chance this was going to get Lance laughed at... but he opened his satchel and pulled out the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars.

Sure enough, Shiro laughed. But it wasn't mean at all, and when he said, "S'mores!", there was a warm nostalgia that was even better than Lance could have imagined.

They stayed there the rest of the day and well into the night, drinking plum wine and eating s'mores, talking under the stars, though Shiro had been careful about the way he'd looked at them whenever his gaze slipped up their way. Lance knew he had been a distraction for Shiro but he hadn't minded.

He still doesn't mind. This time he has something different planned... if Shiro will go along with it. If Shiro can trust him.

"Of course." There's no trace of hesitation in Shiro's tone or his open smile.

Lance grins too. "There's somewhere I want to take you, then." He's been wanting to for a while, actually.

Shiro looks around with an inquisitive gaze. Lance has a guess what's on his mind and is about to tell Shiro how they're going to get there, when Shiro's gaze narrows. He's facing the right direction so Lance doesn't say anything as he follows Shiro over to the hidden hoverbike. 

"I see you've 'borrowed' a Garrison hoverbike. How far—wait." Shiro turns back to Lance. "Is that Black? Did you steal my hoverbike?"

Lance quirks a brow to go with his shrug as he grins. "Does it count as stealing if you take a bike just to go joyriding with the rightful owner?"

There's a recognizable fondness to the snort Shiro lets out. "Guess you're in the clear." He looks at the bike. "So the plan is joyriding." 

Lance doesn't say anything to break Shiro's thoughtful focus on Black, neither confirming nor disconfirming the guess. He hopes the whole day will be a joy, but he can't say that aloud.

"That was quite a chance you took." Shiro turns from his bike to Lance. He grins. "What if I'd discovered her gone this morning?"

Lance is not opposed to taking chances, but he knew there wasn't one this time. Shiro always comes up here on foot on launch days, restlessness and excitement and whatever else is going on in his head that keeps him from sleeping the night before driving him to get moving well before dawn. So it was easy enough for Lance to wait until Shiro was on the way before making his move.

He doesn't say any of that. He just grins again, shrugs again. 

He thinks Shiro will looks up at the sky once more and if Shiro wants to wait and watch the launch from here like usual, Lance will say okay.

But Shiro keeps his eyes on Lance. He grins. "Ready when you are."

He stands by Black, deferring to Lance. This was the one thing Lance hadn't been sure about: whether Shiro would let Lance drive his beloved hoverbike. Lance has been on her plenty of times, but only with Shiro. Hot-wiring her and getting her here for Shiro's surprise is different from actually _driving_ her, and Lance was prepared to give Shiro directions to their destination from the back. He can't deny the small thrill it gives him when he realizes how much farther Shiro is trusting him than Lance asked for; his own grin amplifies the thrill before he can think about trying to hide it and even when he does think about it, he only smiles more.

As Lance is mounting up, Shiro says, "Do you want me to be blindfolded?"

Lance swallows his visceral response instead of turning it into a joke, though he does let himself smile as he shakes his head. "You'd be in the dark for hours, and I hope you'll enjoy the view on the way to the view."

It doesn't come out as smooth as he'd wanted it to but Shiro seems intrigued, more focused on the mystery than the words. "So there's a view..."

Lance grins again but offers no other clues, looking down to check the dash as Shiro tucks in behind him. He jumps in his seat when he feels Shiro's arms wrap around him. Even though Lance usually puts his arms around Shiro's waist when Shiro takes him places, he thought Shiro might only put his hands on Lance's shoulders for this ride. But of course it's okay, and he says so when Shiro checks with him.

They launch over the edge of the low cliff with the smallest freefall before they even out and Lance turns the bike parallel to the water. A flock of orange-billed terns lets out a shrill, raucous protest of disruption as they scatter, reforming as they settle again in the bike's wake. There's probably a shorter way to get from here to there but there's not a prettier one than following the coastline. The ocean glistens with the fully risen sun, the curls of the brilliant white capped waves even more deceptively luscious than the wisps of marine layer that haven't burned out of the sky yet.

 

They've been on their journey south for a little less than half an hour when Lance's wrist PDA vibrates with the alarm he set, timed for when they need to look up to catch what they can see of the launch from here. At the same time, he feels Shiro tighten around him with one arm and let go to tap Lance's shoulder with the other before he points up; of course Shiro set his own alarm.

Lance slows to a stop, hovering over the sand as he shields his eyes against the sun. He adjusts his goggles and zooms in, but the rocket is still a blurred pin-prick from here as it drops away from the shuttle. 

No explosion comes. The mission is away safely. For a moment Lance can't feel Shiro at his back; he doesn't have to look to know Shiro is leaning back, letting relief flush through him in a sigh that rolls through his body. 

Then Shiro's arms are around him once more and sand kicks up in their wake as they resume their own journey. The tightness Shiro always has on launch days eases even more than it usually does, evaporating into the salted ocean air.

They continue along the coastline, riding easy, accompanied in bursts by brown pelicans fishing the surf. They pass snowy egrets whose feathers ruffle like unblown dandelion fluff in the ocean breeze, long-legged willets towering over the tiny sanderlings they're mingling with, roseate spoonbills coloring the shoreline like errant pieces of left-behind sunrise. A jet black bird skims along even lower than the hoverbike, dragging its bill through the shallow water, then angles higher so they see a flash of its white belly.

A few black-headed, red-billed gulls take flight at they pass. Their calls sound like laughter, and as the bike skims along now, Shiro's joins it. 

 

The sun is more than half-way to its apex when Lance navigates across the bridge he's been on the lookout for. The bridge itself is closed, long ago fallen into disrepair, completely gone in some places; Lance follows what remains of the structure out to a small uninhabited island, setting the bike down in a secluded, deep-set cove with calm, clear waters.

"So, this is it," he says. He promised Shiro a view and he knows this doesn't look like much, at least not from here. He dismounts and unloads the top bag, tilting it towards himself as he opens it so Shiro can't look inside. When he feels what he wants, he pulls out his hand and holds up the mask with a mixture of triumph and hope.

Shiro breaks into a grin as he identifies it. "We're going snorkeling?" 

Grinning back, Lance nods. "You mentioned last year that even though you'd trained for extraterrestrial beach exploration in pools back in Arizona, you haven't been for real since you came out here. So, yeah..."

"That's true." Shiro comes over and takes the mask from Lance, turning it over as he examines it. "I haven't been for fun—for real," he says, catching his own phrase and trading it for Lance's with a grin. 

"Before you get too excited." Lance hopes he's not about to ruin things. "I was thinking we'd just do shore dives today. Stay in the shallows of the inlet, where our feet can touch the bottom if we stand. We'll still get to see some cool stuff. I mean, it's not super glamorous or anything, but this place has the prettiest populations of sea stars..."

"Sounds good," Shiro says, and even though Lance is sure he must be at least a little disappointed, he doesn't let it show.

"So," Lance pulls out a zippered bag as he moves on. "I know your arm is waterproof, but I was thinking if you wanted to take it off—"

"Yes!" Whipping his shirt off overhead, Shiro deftly starts undoing the straps of his temporary arm. He's been calling it that ever since he found out the Garrison has been experimenting on a new tech arm for him, advanced beyond the simple robotics of this detachable one.

"—you could stick it in this, to keep it sand-free."

"Good thinking." Shiro shakes himself out and grins as he zips away the temp arm.

They change into short-sleeved, knee-length wet suits, the UV-protectant material so thin it's like a second skin. Shiro tests it out, bending and stretching, before giving his a thumbs up. 

Once Shiro is satisfied with his suit, Lance shows him the snorkeling masks. Since exact fit is as critical for breathing underwater as it is in space, and since style is important for comfort too, Lance brought a few different masks for Shiro to test out before they go in. He thought Shiro was going to go for a full face mask, the closest one to a Garrison astronaut helmet—but maybe that's exactly what put Shiro off it. In any case, he chooses a classic single-pane panoramic with side windows, like Lance's.

They put on their fins and high-step their way across the sand to the water, wading in up to their waists. Even though Lance brought a specially made anti-fogging gel, Shiro spits into his mask like an old pro and smears the saliva around before rinsing it out. "Right?"

"Right," Lance affirms, sort of happy Shiro didn't choose the full face mask after all as he looks at Shiro's naked smile. "See if you can float now."

Biting down on the mouthpiece of his snorkel, Shiro tips himself forward, his form perfect. When he doesn't tip back up immediately, Lance realizes Shiro isn't just testing the float, he's already engaged in the world under the water's surface. Lance watches him from above for another moment, and then dips under himself.

It's like the quietest, most gentle launch into another world. Sunlight reaches through the shallows, playing with the water itself, making everything it touches—corals, sand and rocks, the bare skin of Shiro's legs—shimmer. 

And the sea stars. Ruby brittles and golden crinoids and orange-ridged spinies, common comets and cushions in a rainbow of pinks and purples, deep indigo royal stars, a spectacular feathery giant basketstar that Shiro points out to him with delight before he can point it out to Shiro, and way more species than Lance knows the names of. Sea stars all over, on every seascape surface and even sometimes each other. Not so much creatures in an underwater garden as impermanent, slow moving, overlapping constellations of whim and brilliant colors, living and ever-shifting oceanic nebulae.

Tiny crabs scuttle along the seabed, angelfish and blue tangs dart in and out of the waving corals, and the water shimmers with ropes of sunlight draping over a dazzling panoply of sea stars.

When Shiro finally surfaces, Lance goes up too. 

Shiro takes out his mouthpiece. "This is." He shakes his head, the wonder on his face leaving room for only a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. 

"Well, I wanted to take you to sea stars." It's the kind of pun Shiro's always amusing himself with—sea stars, see stars—but it comes out softer than Lance meant it to and he doesn't think it landed.

Then a moment later, low laughter rumbles up from Shiro's throat, and Lance grins helplessly.

Shiro moves his arm lightly through the water. "This reminds me of aqua therapy, actually."

Snorkeling is a way to get out of the world you're in, a way to get out of your head. That's one of the reasons Lance wanted Shiro to try it: if he can't escape to a world above the Earth anymore, maybe he can escape to one below its surface. It's not zero-G but there's a gravitational lightness in the saltwater that Lance thought would appeal to Shiro.

It doesn't look like that's the connection Shiro is making—but pool therapy is one of the greatest sources of physical relief for Shiro, so Lance will take it. 

"They say you can't live in the water," Shiro says, quoting his doctors. "But what if you could...?"

It's not exactly rhetorical. There's a real answer and Shiro has worked it out. He's never told it to Lance but Lance has guessed it: if you could live in the water, you could live without pain.

Shiro does a few experimental stretches, moving only his arm and shoulders and hips, careful not to disturb the seabed. He looks like he's doing okay but they probably need a hydration break now anyhow, and Lance suggests one.

As they're walking out of the water, Shiro shakes his head. "You know, I knew this was going to be something big. You wouldn't have taken Black for something small."

Even if they'd only driven back and forth along the coast, Shiro's joy is no small thing, but Lance doesn't know how to say that, much less get Shiro to agree. 

"When we got here," Shiro goes on, "I thought you were going to reveal that you're a merman."

This is Shiro's other favorite style of humor: the bizarre said casually and ordinarily. Lance picks up the joke in the same vein: "Ah, no—I only revert to that form in my home waters." He smiles back at Shiro.

"Actually," he says as they settle in the sand and he passes Shiro one of the water thermoses, "I'd love to show you the snorkeling in Cuba. We have sea stars there too, obviously, and there's one spot I know with as many different jellies as there are sea stars here." Nostalgia kicks up in him and he can't help the thrilled undertone of pride as he goes on, "We have super cool coral species like brain and fire. Sea turtles, of course, and rays and nurse sharks and barracuda." You can find most of that if you go to the right places in coastal Florida, but Lance has a special feeling for the beaches and reefs of his home, human though he is. "There are schools of squid—"

"Squid!" Shiro chugs from the thermos. A tiny rivulet that he doesn't bother wiping away slides down over his skin. "What about octopi?" 

Lance arches a brow. He had no idea until this moment that Shiro was interested in squid and octopi. "You might have to go scuba diving for the octopi."

"Okay," Shiro says. "Check your schedule and I'll check mine, and let's find a week that works for both of us."

"Okay, yeah," Lance says as he realizes Shiro is serious, unwilling to do anything to ruin Shiro's smile, unable to keep from smiling himself.

 

They pass the day snorkeling, going in to shore for hydration and to reapply biodegradable sunblock, sometimes simply pausing to float on their backs now and then. 

As they're making their way back in after one shore break, Lance notices a huge sea star sprawled on a rock near the surface, ink black and dotted with white spines. "Look at this one! Looks like he lost one of his limbs—see, you can see the stub of a new one he's—" Lance stops. He can't believe he just said that. "I'm the dumbest person on the planet."

Shiro doesn't mind, though. "You're the coolest person on the planet." 

That's enough to make Lance laugh around the fist he's trying to stuff in his own mouth, and drop his hand. "I'm definitely not!"

"Well." Shiro's gaze wanders away over the water, off towards the horizon, though Lance doesn't think it quite reaches. "I don't know how you feel about the word "nice." Some people don't like it."

"I don't have a problem with 'nice.""

"Says the nicest person on the planet." Shiro bends to look at the black sea star. "You're a handsome fellow." He reaches out, touches it lightly. The tip of the arm he touches twitches and Shiro smiles at the sea star as he straightens up, flashes Lance a wider grin, and floats his way into deeper waters.

 

Even after the sun goes down, the night is warm. They sit in the sand at the edge, their bare feet in the water, the night sky mirrored on the ocean's surface.

"The stars above us and the stars below us."

Lance turns at Shiro's words and Shiro meets his gaze with a smile before looking back at the quiet water. "I like it here, with the stars like this."

Even though that's exactly what Lance wanted for Shiro, he finds himself rubbing the back of his own neck. "I mean." He gestures at the shimmering stars floating on the water. "There are plenty of places to see the stars like this."

"Maybe," Shiro says. "But no one ever took me stargazing underwater. No one ever brought me to touch the stars."

Their gazes meet before Lance's shies away up into the night sky.

"Hey," he says after a few breaths, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"How do you celebrate your birthday when it's not a year with a February 29th?" There hasn't been a February 29th since they met and there isn't one this year either. "Not how is it possible to celebrate." Leaning back on his hands as they sink into the sand, Lance looks over at Shiro. "Just, how do _you_ like to do it? But you don't have to tell me, of course," he adds as he gazes across the water at the horizon he can't see, "if it's private or anything,"

"It _is_ private," Shiro says, "but I don't mind telling you." He's smiling when Lance looks at him. "I take a breath just before midnight, hold it through the turn from one day to the next, and have my birthday right in that breath."

Lance doesn't know what to say. He knows what he wants to do...

But instead he scootches forward, a little deeper in, then lies back in the wet sand, the water lapping lightly over him. This wasn't part of his original plan. This isn't planned at all and he hopes it's going to work... "What does it look like?"

For a moment Shiro doesn't say anything, and Lance has a feeling Shiro is going to tell Lance he looks like what he feels like, which is a fool.

Water disrupted by movement sluices over Lance as Shiro gets to his feet. Lance glances up but even though Shiro is gazing down, their eyes don't meet. Lance looks at him long enough to see a sigh he doesn't hear.

And then Shiro says, "It looks like you're lying among the stars," and Lance's own smile makes him feel even more foolish but he can't stop. Maybe he's not a genius, maybe he's not good enough to be an astronaut, but no genius or astronaut has ever given Shiro the stars.

Instead of sitting down again and settling back himself, Shiro walks around to Lance's other side before lying down . His hand finds Lance's in the sand and water, among the stars, and curls around it.

At midnight, Lance kisses him and Shiro shares that breath.

They lie in the ocean of stars wordlessly until Shiro says, "If we make a small fire pit, is it okay to light a fire here?"

Lance turns to him. "Are you cold?"

Still gazing straight up into the night, Shiro shakes his head. "I just want s'mores."

"How do you know I brought supplies for that?"

Shiro looks at him, grins, shrugs. 

Smiling back, Lance goes to set up the fire pit.


End file.
